my heart is deceased but not depleated laying in a bed of cold leaves and the worms and snails just eat their fill until my blood's finally gone now please just be a bit kind leave a shread of my heart for her she can plant that seed in this bag of leaves and tend it just til it sings
i've realized somehow through all these situations i've grown accustomed to that i'm not accustomed to them at all, and i can't deal with life without someone i can share my insides with. i'm slowly getting to that point of breaking
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